Ordeal of a ‘retired’ robber

Eighteen years ago, a self-confessed robbery kingpin, Olusegun Abayomi Raji, a.k.a Okuta, retired in a dramatic manner. But, contrary to his expectations, he has been facing hard times. He shares his ordeal with Assistant Editor DADA ALADELOKUN

Sixty-five-year-old Olusegun Abayomi Raji, now an evangelist, numbers today, among the most traumatised. Fondly addressed as Okuta for his invincibility while his “golden” reign lasted in the underworld, between 1971 and February 13, 1994, he distinguished himself in his chosen career.

For want of appropriate parental tutelage as a youth, little Olusegun was, early enough, exposed to peer influence in the course of trying his hands in menial jobs to survive. He was working with a building construction company in Jos when his story changed. With a “whopping” one pound then, he got induced into a gang of robbers. And he “rose through the ranks!”

The Oyo State-born sharp shooter was king. He was feared and adored by those who encountered him. By his confession, he shared times with equally dreaded superstars of the underworld. They included the infamous Shina Rambo, fiery Lawrence Anini’s associate Monday Osunbor and the northern Nigerian-based notorious bandit, Umoru Mesaje. Like the trio, Olusegun spread tears wherever his pernicious business led him.

Olusegun, whose mere appellation was terror to even the valiant, not only sacrificed his four-month-old baby for protective charms, he took his morbid search for spiritual powers to queer devil’s kingdoms, including a well in Jos, the Plateau State capital. By his account, he partook of all known powerful cults on the face of the earth except Egungun.

Even years after its death, no child would dare move near a dead cobra. In sleep or out on operation, no neighbour would tread his Oke-Odo, Lagos home without his heart and legs misbehaving.

However, his “glorious” reign ended the day his powers failed him. God showed Himself the day he planned to show Prophet Samuel Kayode Abiara of the popular Christ Apostolic Church (CAC), Agbala Itura, Lagos, that power pass power. But what prompted such an effrontery? He told this reporter:

“Some pastors from the church were fond of pestering me to change my ways and I felt it was an opportunity for me to convince them of my stuff. That day, we had already been set for the day’s operation and our target was the late prominent owner of Atunrase Carpets and Underlays.”

Not only were his so-called powers neutralised, the Holy Spirit “arrested” him. “It was at the spot that I surrendered all the charms I had worn to harm Pastor Abiara. All the other charms I had at home were later evacuated in three bus loads. That was when I realised that I had been deceiving myself thinking I was invincible.”

Besides being a terror to his innocent “enemies” in his own world, the zenith of his “breakthroughs” came the day he made a bumper harvest – a whopping N1.2 million in an operation! It was, however, not without paying the price as he, at various times, spent jail terms ranging from two and six years in various jail houses.

All that, however, became history after the encounter at Agbala Itura. But ever since, he has remained hooked to tribulations.

Presumably by reason of his calling, Pastor Abiara sponsored Olusegun’s enrolment at a theological seminary. The late Mr Tunde Sebanjo, the gold-hearted owner of Lagos-based President Paints, whom he met at the sanctuary in 1994, came to his rescue by catering for his pecuniary needs.

However, ill-fate had a shock in store for unsuspecting Olusegun. While he was dreaming of a more fructifying relationship with the philanthropist, whom he once described as his “saviour,” death snatched Sebanjo away. He was said to have died of heart attack at 66 on July 5, 2009. For months, the retired robber was a wreck.

“I know what has befallen me; this is a callous death. This was a man that has been there for me for 14 years after I dumped my bad old ways. In fact, he always told me that he was ready to do all within his ability to make sure that I did not return to the underworld. Apart from his household, all his workers at his Ahmadiyya office know me as chairman’s son.

“Cry to him any time, you would leave his office with smiles. He actually asked me to feel free to tell him my mind any time. He gave me money to buy my first handset on September 2, 2005. He would feed me and buy me clothes. Every December, he would give my family a bag of rice and money. Who will do all these for me now? Oh, this is too wrong a time for chairman to die,” Olusegun bemoaned Sebanjo’s demise.

God heard his prayers again as he came into contact with Revd (Mrs) Olukemi Ayoola, founder/co-ordinator, Trumpet of Life Ministries, a religious charity organisation, which finalised efforts to give Olusegun total care for his three deprived children. At Ife, the kids enjoyed everything, including education under the care of the Mother in Israel.

For certain inscrutable reasons, Olusegun brought the kids back into his fold. “Maybe he was missing them; but I think He should have allowed me to accomplish what God sent me to do on the innocent kids,” Mrs Ayoola later said about Olusegun’s “strange” move.

If he had thought his vicissitudes were over, he was dead wrong. What an irony; shortly afterwards, four armed robbers who would not dare move near his neighbourhood in his hey days in “active service” visited him, dispossessing him of his belongings.

His wife, Abosede, shared in the terror at his Oke-Odo, home, a miserable apartment which, according to him, is the only fruit of his 23-year-old unbroken courtship with the devil.

Virtually everywhere he sought succour, was a tale of disappointments. But he kept himself busy with reading the scriptures and visiting churches where he shared his ordeals with congregations.

Two years ago, precisely December 3, 2010, he was just smarting from the agony of his tribulations when cruel fate bore its fangs for the umpteenth time. He was enjoying a cruise on a power motorbike that a Good Samaritan had procured for him to keep body and soul intact when he started an unpremeditated journey to infirmaries. It was while on his way to Idiroko, an outskirt of Lagos.

“I thought I had died because I saw heaven when the accident occurred owing to bad driving by some vehicles. I was on my way to finalising a contract as a trained house builder. I thank God for some kind-hearted Customs officers who helped me and took me to the hospital,” still writhing in pains, Olusegun told the reporter as he displayed the x-rays showing his dislocated thighs.

He cut the pitiable picture of a trapped grass-cutter as he reeled off his agonies to this reporter. Within his reach were his crutches. Besides his wife, his fairly large bible appeared his closest ally.

“My brother (looking into the reporter’s eyes), the state of things in this society calls for prayers. I have been to various churches where the General Overseers would assign pastors to take care of me, but to my dismay, they never showed the compassion I had thought they would evince as true Christians. Even most of the pastors we worship today are into various cults. I know their signs because I was once in them,” he lamented, adding pitiably: “If someone like me who willingly said bye to the devil and his works cannot get help from the church, I’m not being encouraged to retrace my steps and reconcile with the devil?”

“In other welfarist countries,” he continued, “someone like me would be rehabilitated to be more useful to the society. But here, no body cares; the government does not help matters. This is my dilemma at the moment.”

Describing the controversial ban on commercial mtorcycles Okada in Lagos as well-intentioned on the part of the government, he, however, frowned at the absence of alternative measures to cushion the debilitating effects of the policy on already deprived masses, who, according to him, eke out a living through bike riding under the scorching sun.

Opening up further on his angst, the evangelist said: “I have been trying my best to change some of these guys who are into robbery and other crimes to turn over a new leaf, but they are always quick to ask: If we leave the job, are we not going to subject ourselves to you present experience and wallow in abject poverty?” This, he maintained, is where government must urgently look into.

As things stand, the born-again criminal anxiously awaits manna from above as multifaceted deprivations and regrets remain his only retirement entitlements!